The next day,
Dale woke up early.
He hummed an unknown Scottish tune while shaving in front of the mirror in the washroom.
Due to the small window in the washroom, the light was dim, causing him to only be able to shave one side of his beard cleanly. So he had to call for his beloved wife's help halfway through the process.
"Ruth, lend me a hand," he said.
Louise Hawkins rushed in, wiping her hands and complaining, "Can't you wait? I was just about to fry some eggs."
Although she said that, she still took the razor from him.
The two of them were an old married couple, although they occasionally bickered, they were very in sync in their daily lives.
As Louise shaved,
Dale moved his neck to help her.
Dale asked, "Did you manage to get 'The Scottish People' yesterday?"
Because he was afraid of being cut, he said this with his lips pursed, something only a normal person couldn't understand.
Hawkins stopped her hand movement,
"What did you say?"
Dale repeated, "I asked if you bought 'The Scottish People' yesterday?"
Hawkins couldn't help but laugh,
Although her husband seemed to look down on 'And Then There Were None' and the young Chinese writer, Lu, in public, he had secretly read the first four chapters of the novel many times over, typical of someone who criticizes but secretly enjoys.
She said as she lathered the shaving soap with a shaving brush, "No, I didn't. I couldn't find it anywhere."
Dale's lips curved into a satisfied smile,
'The warm spring river foretells the arrival of ducks.'
Despite not attending school, British newspaper boys were sharp as nails, knowing what would sell and what wouldn't. She imagined that Cooper, who had been brainwashed by liberalism, was probably staring at a pile of unsold newspapers, feeling helpless. If he asked her, she would buy twenty copies just to humor him.
His tone was full of pride.
Hawkins rolled her eyes at her husband,
"Do you think I didn't go to Fleet Street yesterday?"
With just this sentence, the washroom fell silent,
"..."
"..."
"..."
As if you could hear a pin drop.
It took Dale a while to react,
"You just said... Ah! Oops..."
Because he was too excited, his lips moved too much, causing a small cut on his right jaw.
Hawkins scolded him with concern, "How could you be so careless!"
She then took a towel and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
Dale took the towel from her, pressing it against the wound, and said, "It's fine, it'll stop bleeding on its own in a moment. Don't worry about it. Tell me about 'The Scottish People' newspaper. I was at the Coastal Magazine office yesterday and didn't know what happened."
Hawkins replied, "What else could it be? Yesterday, you asked me to buy 'The Scottish People,' but I asked several newsboys, and they were all sold out."
Dale's eyebrows twitched,
Subtly, he had a bad feeling about this,
"So you went to Fleet Street?"
Hawkins nodded,
"The task you assigned me, I would do my best to complete. So I went from Stran Street to the office of 'The Scottish People' at Fleet Street, thinking I could get the newspaper there. Who would have thought that they were all sold out when I got there?"
Dale clenched his fists, and the towel he was holding deformed severely.
He moved the towel away, checked his reflection in the mirror, and found that the bleeding had stopped. Then he turned to Hawkins,
"Ruth, I'm going out for a bit."
Hawkins stopped him, "Aren't you going to eat?"
Dale didn't have the mood for food.
He waved his hand, not even wanting to respond, and went straight out the door.
The morning mist lingered over London,
In the mist, drunken men staggered by, occasionally one or two would fall down and sleep against the wall,
Newsboys dodged carriages as they walked down the street, waving newspapers in their hands,
"'The Times', 'The Daily Telegraph', 'The Manchester Guardian'..."
Dale reached out to stop one of them,
"Kid, give me a copy of 'The Times'!"
He handed the boy five pence.
'The Times' newspaper usually sold for a penny, and the extra money was considered a tip.
The newsboy understood. He knew there was something Dale wanted to ask, so he didn't hurry to leave.
Dale asked, "Do you have 'The Scottish People' from yesterday?"
The newsboy looked at him as if he was an idiot,
Suddenly,
"Are you Doctor Dale?"
The newsboy recognized him.
Dale didn't show surprise.
These days, his photos had been all over the newspapers. It would have been odd if the newsboy, who handled newspapers every day, didn't recognize him.
The newsboy said, "Doctor Dale, 'The Scottish People' sold very well yesterday. I took 20 copies for the first time, and they were sold out in the blink of an eye. When I went back for more, I found they had already been swept up by other colleagues."
When he used the word "colleagues," he sounded like a little adult.
Dale was almost dizzy.
Throughout yesterday, Dale had stayed in the office of "The Seaside Magazine," constantly monitoring the sales.
According to statistics, "The Seaside Magazine" sold more than fifty thousand copies in total, while "The Scottish People" distributed only twenty thousand copies in the London area.
From a purely numerical perspective, "The Hound of the Baskervilles" performed much better than "The Final Problem".
However, yesterday was the head start for "The Hound of the Baskervilles", with countless bonuses and buffs almost fully stacked, while "The Scottish People" was on the losing end of public opinion. Yet, it still managed to sell out.
If "The Scottish People" distributed thirty thousand copies, would it still sell out?
Fifty thousand copies?
A hundred thousand copies?
It was almost unthinkable.
"Gulp..."
Dale swallowed hard and asked, "Weren't people discussing Sherlock Holmes on the streets yesterday? How could this happen?"
The newsboy smiled in agreement. "Who says they weren't? Yesterday was indeed strange. People were saying 'Sherlock Holmes has returned, it's a great joy,' and yet they bought 'The Scottish People' without hesitation. I've never seen such a strange sight."
Dale's face was full of black lines, ╯□╰||
For some reason, he felt a ridiculous sense of being cuckolded.
In fact, the reason for this phenomenon was very simple: "The Final Problem" was superior in content.
What people said was just for socializing.
For example:
"Do you watch Sherlock Holmes?"
"Of course! I love 'The Speckled Band,' it's fantastic."
"Sigh, I wanted to buy 'The Seaside Magazine' yesterday, but couldn't. I wonder when it'll be reissued."
"Yeah, 'The Seaside Magazine' should publish more."
...
But when it came time to spend real money, the body was more honest than anyone else.
Money speaks louder than words.
Dale stood still, feeling drained.
The faintly foul smell of the Thames River's misty London morning enveloped him like an invisible soft palm, tightly wrapping him, unable to break free.
He weakly waved his hand to the newsboy.
"Thank you."
The newsboy didn't leave, but continued to promote, "Doctor Dale, do you want to read Lu's works? If you couldn't get 'The Scottish People' from yesterday, it's okay. You can read today's 'Daily Telegraph' or 'Manchester Guardian'. They have Lu's editorial."
Another heavy blow!
Dale almost lost his balance and was in a state of confusion.
Could a normal human achieve this in just a week?
And the novel serialization hasn't even stopped.
Was this something a normal person could do?